


That Rooftop

by kyjr



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band), Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyjr/pseuds/kyjr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ueda keeps running into Nishikido on the roof...</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://floppy-snoopi.livejournal.com/profile)[**floppy_snoopi**](http://floppy-snoopi.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://help-pilipinas.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://help-pilipinas.livejournal.com/)**help_pilipinas** auction.

You stand there, feeling the breeze against your face as you watch a flock of birds take to the air and disappear in a flurry of feathers behind a tall building. You sigh, and lean forward to rest your arms against the fence in front of you, wondering what on Earth is wrong with you.

 

Why do you freeze everytime someone touches you? Why do you shift uncomfortably even when Kamenashi throws his arm around your shoulders - someone you've known most of your life? You're meant to laugh at Kamenashi; meant to sling an arm around his body and hug him back.

 

But all you can do is keep your hands clamped to your sides as Kamenashi talks into your ear, trying to slowly inch out of his embrace. And it's the same with everyone, except your grandparents. You won't even hug your own parents - then again, they won't hug you, either.

 

You've just come from a photoshoot, where the photographer had asked Nakamaru to place his hand on your shoulder. You had cringed from the apologetic look Nakamaru had shot you; he knows you too well.

 

The door creaks open behind you, but you pay it no heed. You hear footsteps, and then there's a shadow next to your own, and the heavy smell of cigarette smoke infecting the air. The other clears his throat, and you turn.

 

Nishikido. His blue-black hair ruffles in the wind, smoke curling up and around his head. His chin is tilted upwards as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, long fingers lightly grasping the white stick with a strange kind of precision. His eyebrows are knitted together, his eyes dark as he watches the clouds.

 

"What," he says, but it's not a question. He turns his dark eyes onto your own, and you have to look away, shifting slightly in your place.

 

"Nothing," you say back, watching the shadows on the concrete roof.

 

Nishikido takes another drag on his cigarette, and you cough slightly. He snorts lightly, but passes you the cigarette.

 

"No, thankyou," you say politely, shaking your head, and he just shrugs and brings it back between his lips.

 

"Whatever," he mumbles.

 

You both stand there in silence, watching the clouds lazily drift over the sky. He sighs and throws his cigarette to the ground, stamping on it with his foot before taking another deep breath. "I'm going in," he says awkwardly, nodding to himself and turning.

 

"Bye," you whisper, as the door closes behind him.

 

>>><<<

  

The photoshoot was terrible. The five of you were forced to sit on a couch made for two people. Kamenashi was practically on top of you. Nakamaru had thrown a glance at you; warning you not to make a scene. You weren't going to, you tell him through an angered glance back, and Nakamaru just sighed.

 

You find yourself back on the rooftop after the shoot, looking out to the street below, watching as cars and buses and taxis rush past one another. You wonder where they're all going. Are they heading to work? Or to school? Or to visit a loved one in hospital?

 

Nishikido is back. Smoke is curling around his fingers as he lights his cigarette, coming over to stand next to you again. He coughs a little - maybe to make sure you know he's there - and offers you the cigarette. You shake your head.

 

"What's with you?" he asks bluntly, and you start.

 

"What?"

 

He takes another drag before he answers. "You're all... upset, or something," he says, trying not to look at you. He leans his forearms against the railing and shuffles his feet a little.

 

"I'm fine," you say. "I just... need to clear my head."

 

"Could take a while," Nishikido retorts, and you smile a little. "So. What's up?"

 

You turn and look at him, even though he's avoiding your eyes. "Why do you care?" you ask carefully, and his eyes flash before he's putting the cigarette out and sighing.

 

"Nevermind," he says, and leaves again.

 

>>><<<

 

The next time you go up to the roof, he's already standing there, cigarette between his lips.

 

"Hey," he says, and nods his head towards you. You greet him back, asking him why he's there. He smirks around the cigarette. "Needed a break," he answers, as you walk closer to him. "Needed a break from those idiots," he laughs.

 

You laugh with him, watching the way his rather shy smile lights up his entire face. Nishikido is quite good-looking - not that this is new to you, but it's the first time you've really seen him this candid. He's not wearing makeup today, and his skin is darker than you've seen it.

 

Nishikido has very long eyelashes.

 

So you tell him this. He pauses and looks at you, a strange little smile on his face. "What?"

 

You realise that what you've said is a bit odd, so you avoid his question by stealing his cigarette and taking a long drag from it. You splutter a little as the smoke fills your lungs, and it feels horrible, and suffocating, and you have no idea why people like this. He laughs at you, patting your back and taking the stick from you.

 

"That was stupid," he says, still laughing, and you punch him lightly.

 

"Shut up," you cough. "That's disgusting," you say, tears in your eyes. He hums.

 

"So, why are you here?" he asks. "You don't seem upset today."

 

You look at him, but he's avoiding your eyes, staring up at the blue sky. "I like it up here," you say, and he finally looks you in the eye. His gaze is so intense that you feel like you should look away, but you can't. "It's...peaceful."

 

He smirks. "Peaceful... when there's no loud Osakan around to bug you," he adds, and you laugh a little.

 

"You're not that loud."

 

"Compared to Hina, no-one is loud," he says, and you chuckle. There's smoke floating about the two of you, the light wind blowing it around your heads and off into the sky.

 

"Don't leave though," you add, just in case. You find you like his presence, strangely enough. You haven't really paid Nishikido much attention before. You haven't really gotten to know him. Sure, you two had that 'fight' way back when, but that didn't count. That didn't count at all.

 

Nishikido turns to you with an odd look in his eye. "Okay," is all he says, and leans against the railing behind him.

 

>>><<<

 

You find yourself looking forward to meeting Nishikido up on the roof. You never see him during the day, but somehow he's always on the rooftop when you are. You never talk much. He smokes; you watch ladybugs as they crawl over the concrete. Your time together only lasts about ten minutes, as both of you have to get back to work, but you really enjoy it.

 

Nishikido hands you an onigiri as you open the door to the rooftop, and you stare at it. "You're meant to eat it," he says, already halfway through one himself.

 

"Yes. I know that," you laugh. He's sitting on the ground today, legs stretched in front of him as he chews. You sit next to him hesitantly, still keeping a space between you two. He smiles, but whether it's at you or something else, you don't know.

 

It has salmon inside. Now you know why Nishikido gave it to you. You laugh to yourself, and he looks over. "What?"

 

"It's fish," you say, and he shifts his eyes away.

 

"Yeah. I don't like--"

 

"I know."

 

"Oh."

 

You're silent again, but that's okay. It's comfortable. He starts humming, some nice, slow tune that has you closing your eyes to the sky and sighing. He sounds nice, you think, especially when he starts mumbling lyrics and you realise he's singing one of your songs. "That's mine," you say absentmindedly, and he stops.

 

"Sorry."

 

"...no, it's okay."

 

So he continues after a little sigh, and you like the way your song sounds in his voice. Your voice sounds wispy, as if it could blow away at any moment, but his is stronger, deeper, with a husky richness to it that you like. You should write a song for him.

 

His voice haunts you at night. You lie awake, itching to write a song that suits his voice. Your piano is calling out to you. You need to write him something.

 

You write a ballad.

 

You give it to him the next day. You feel proud, even though it's not complete, and there aren't any lyrics to it yet. You slip it into his hand as you pass him on the roof, and he stares at you a little.

 

"What's this?" he asks, but you ignore him and move away, pretending to be engrossed in the onigiri he has given you.

 

"Nothing much," you say, and a few grains of rice fall out of your mouth. He laughs.

 

"Very elegant," he says, and goes back to reading the papers. "This is a song," he points out.

 

"...Yes."

 

You turn your back to him, waiting for him to say something. "Why did you give this to me?" he asks eventually.

 

You shrug. "I heard you singing. Thought I'd write a song," you say offhandedly, as if you hadn't spent hours and hours on it; as if you weren't thinking about his voice all night. "It's not much."

 

His only answer is the smell of cigarette smoke as Nishikido lights another one and walks over next to you. "Is it for me?" You grunt, and he goes quiet. "It's a slow song."

 

"I thought... it'd be interesting," you start, and then he's looking right at you, those deep eyes looking into yours and you don't know if you can look away; he's _right there_ , and he has this intense look in his eyes, like there's a thousand emotions bounding about inside his mind. You don't know what to do, or what to say, or if you should say or do something - but then he's blinking; moving. Moving away. You wonder what he may have read in your eyes.

 

"Interesting, huh," he mumbles, gazing down at the paper.

 

>>><<<

 

You find out that those onigiri aren't store-bought the week after, when the two of you are sitting in the middle of the roof.

 

"Salmon again?" you complain, but he just nudges you with his elbow.

 

"Shut up."

 

"What's in yours?" you ask, and lean over to see. He leans away, trying to hold you back with one hand as the other tries to keep his onigiri away from you. "Come on, show me!"

 

"No!" Nishikido yells, falling onto his back. You manage to grab his food, and he scrambles back up, trying to get it back.

 

There's nothing inside it, and you look at him curiously.

 

"What?" he snaps, snatching the onigiri back. "I like rice, okay?"

 

"Why do you buy two if you don't like salmon?" you ask then, catching him offguard.

 

"I... I don't buy them. I make them," he says, and your eyes widen in surprise. "What? Didn't think I could do it?"

 

"No... but I didn't think you'd make one just for me," you say, a smile making it's way onto your face. Nishikido splutters a little.

 

"I didn't make it 'just for you'," he mumbles, but you can see the tips of his ears turning red.

 

"Yes, you did," you pry, poking him in the side and laughing when he twists away.

 

"Maybe."

 

"Why?" you ask, although you're smiling, happy that he's thought of you.

 

"You wrote me a song. I wanted to do something for you."

 

"But... you were giving me onigiri before that--"

 

"Just-- _shut up, Ueda,_ " he practically squeaks, and hits you over the head.

 

"You just _squeaked_ \--"

 

"No, I didn't!"

 

"You did!"

 

"I'm going back inside, where people appreciate me cooking for them!"

 

>>><<<

 

The next time you two are on the roof, it starts raining.

 

You aren't prepared for it - one minute it's blue skies, and then it's pouring. The two of you are leaning against the rail, just talking about everything and about nothing at the same time. It's just as you realise that you don't know Nishikido very well when the rain starts, pouring down on you.

 

Nishikido shouts something and rushes to the small overhang on the roof. You just laugh, not at all bothered by the rain. You learnt long ago not to care about the rain. It was just water. But Nishikido is looking like a drenched cat, shivering as he watches you with an incredulous expression on his face.

 

"What are you doing?" he screeches, but you pay him no heed. "You're completely soaked through!"

 

"So?" you shout back, when he keeps complaining. "It'll dry off!"

 

"You'll catch a cold!"

 

"No, I won't!"

 

"How could you possibly know that?"

 

You pause. "I don't!" you eventually say, over the sound of the rain on the concrete, and you see Nishikido grimace, but give in.

 

He slowly makes his way over to you, and when he looks into your eyes, something changes. He's unsure and careful, but he's doing this for you.

 

He's doing this for you.

 

He almost slips, but you're there to grab onto his hand and steady him. He grumbles something under his breath, but you ignore him. "I feel horrible," he mumbles, and you hit him.

 

"Enjoy it!"

 

"Don't want to," he pouts, but there's a smile slowly breaking free.

 

"Yes, you do," you say, and pull him closer, so he can see what he's missing out on.

 

You love the feeling of the rain on your skin.

 

And you love the feeling of Nishikido's hand in your own.

 

You stare at it, so much darker than your own, gripping onto your hand like it's his lifeline. But... you're completely comfortable. You feel strange.

 

Nishikido tugs on your hand, and looks up, blinking into the rain. "It's not so bad," he says, more to himself than you. You laugh at him, and he looks at you. "Not so bad."

 

You have to go, then, and the two of you collapse into the stairwell, laughing until your sides hurt. He's got this spark in his eyes when he looks at you, that beautiful smile of his directed right at you. You smile back, even though your hair is dripping into your eyes, and Nishikido just shakes his head and ruffles your hair roughly, pushing you sideways.

 

"You're an idiot," he says, rather affectionately.

 

"I know."

 

>>><<<

 

Nishikido sings your song on television.

 

It is by pure chance that your television is on the right channel - you aren't even watching it - and suddenly you hear familiar notes floating in from the lounge room. You stop what you're doing and rush out of the kitchen, abandoning your half-made tea. "What...?" you ask yourself in disbelief.

 

You never thought he would perform it live. You thought that maybe he would sing it to himself, or maybe to you, or maybe to his band. But never live.

 

But yes, that's definitely your song. You know those piano notes, that tinkering melody that was floating through your head the night you wrote it. He hadn't changed it.

 

You stare at the screen as someone plays the piano, the camera closing in on his fingers on the keys. You can't help but hum the tune as the camera pans back out and focuses on Nishikido, who is sitting on a stool a short distance away, with a microphone on a stand in front of him.

 

Nishikido. He's wearing his worn old jeans and a black shirt, and should look out of place next to the gleaming grand piano, but he doesn't. His hair is as flyaway as it always is, falling into his eyes, but he doesn't seem to care. He's looking down, at his hands in his lap, waiting for the cue to start singing.

 

It's then that you realise Nishikido has added lyrics to your song. You walk closer to the television, unable to take your eyes off it as you hear him singing. He holds the microphone stand in his hands as he sings, a heartfelt ballad that sends goosebumps up and down your arms. He's singing about love; about skies, rooftops, and badly-made rice balls, about music and silence. He's singing about dancing in the rain, about laughing, about everything.

 

You find yourself enchanted.

 

You find yourself in love.

 

You're in trouble.

 

>>><<<

 

"Did you see it?"

 

Nishikido is waiting for you, onigiri in-hand. He looks torn between excited and terrified, shuffling from one foot to the other. You nod, and his face falls.

 

"Didn't you like it?" he asks, and you rush to assure him.

 

"No, I... I loved it," you say carefully, and his whole face brightens.

 

"Really?"

 

"Yeah..."

 

You both stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do, or what to say. "I really like that song you wrote for me," Nishikido starts. You smile.

 

"Good. I knew your voice would sound good singing it," you say.

 

"And I---"

 

And then it was raining again.

 

"Are you fucking _serious_?!" Nishikido roars up at the sky, and you laugh again, rushing into the rain to save the onigiri that Nishikido had almost dropped.

 

You're drenched to the bone in seconds, but you don't care.

 

You can't save the onigiri.

 

There are grains of rice everywhere, but it doesn't matter, because Nishikido is looking at you again with those eyes. "The rain interrupted me," he says, rather dejectedly.

 

You take his hand and lead him to the stairs, closing the door behind you. It's just the two of you now, in the small stairwell, closed off from the rest of the world. It is just you and Nishikido.

 

Just you and Nishikido.

 

"I really love that song," Nishikido says, his voice wavering a little. He's standing very close, you realise, but you don't mind. Nishikido's arms are suddenly around your waist, and your heart skips a beat.

 

"And... I really loved... your lyrics..." you manage to murmur. There's water dripping from his hair, and you have to move his hair away from his eyes. Those eyes. His eyes are so deep.

 

He pushes you gently against the wall, covering your body with his. You don't push him away.

 

"Ueda," he breathes, and your heartbeat is so fast, you're sure he can feel it. But that's okay, because his is the same.

 

"Yes?" you whisper, and you hope that he's going to kiss you now.

 

"I... I'm normally kind of stupid when it comes to th---"

 

"Nishikido?"

 

"...Yeah?"

 

"Kiss me."

 

You can feel his smirk against your lips as he leans down and finally kisses you. His skin is cold against yours, and water is still dripping from his hair and onto your own face, but you don't care. You draw him closer, ever closer, and he's pulling you in. You can't get enough. You need to be closer.

 

His kisses are tender and slow, and not what you are expecting. Your mind is whirling, but all you can focus on is kissing Nishikido back - _you're kissing Nishikido_.

 

He pulls away first, resting his forehead on yours. Neither of you know what to say.

 

"That's...new," Nishikido says. You laugh and nod.

 

"Do it again."

 

 

\--the end


End file.
